


Faceless Memories

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Wincest - Freeform, amnesia!fic, dean doesn't know who he is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 05:09:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2839196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are lost in your own mind. </p>
            </blockquote>





	Faceless Memories

Sam’s eyes are familiar. 

There’s something about them, although you’re not really sure what. Maybe it’s the fact that they never seem to be the same color. Maybe it’s the way they light up whenever you make him laugh. Maybe it’s the sheer amount of love emanating from them each time he looks at you. 

Actually, it’s probably all three of those things.

What you do know is that Sam’s eyes are the only thing on earth right now that can be described as such—familiar— for you are lost in your own mind. 

Your brain is a huge, empty compartment containing nothing but a muddled mess of faceless memories and useless recollections serving no purpose other than to confuse you. When you look in the mirror, the man staring back at you is anything but familiar. Handsome, though. At least you’ve got that going for you.

You remember nothing about who you are, nothing about your past, and nothing about this gentle, tall guy named Sam who’s been taking care of you for the last couple of days. And he won’t tell you jack squat. It doesn’t help that you feel so drawn to him, constantly resisting the urge to reach out and touch him, to pull him close, to kiss him. 

~

Sam brings you a plate of poorly cooked eggs and a few greasy pieces of bacon one morning. When you eye him strangely, he tells you softly that that’s exactly how you like them. You ask him to sit with you while you eat and he does as told, taking a seat on your springy mattress. You raise your eyebrows when you feel the entire thing shift under his weight. Sam really is a big guy. 

“So,” You ask, breaking the silence. “You ever gonna tell me who I am, or are you just gonna force me to figure it out on my own?” 

Sam sighs. You know how much he hates it when you ask him questions like this, but it’s worth a try, right?

“I already told you, I can’t tell you anything. I would if I could, okay?” Sam says, pleading with his eyes, those eyes, for you to shut the hell up about it already. But no, that’s not happening today. You’re gonna get some answers whether Sam likes it or not. 

“Yeah yeah, I know. But come on man, just give me something,” You say, practically begging Sam at this point. Yeah, you’re aware of how pathetic you sound, but it seems like that’s the only way Sam will talk. 

Sam puts his face in his hands and briefly massages his temples. He mumbles something that sounds like “Damn it, Dean” (Dean?) and stands up. Your heart sinks when you realize that he’s going leave again. You feel uneasy whenever he’s not with you. 

But then he turns around and looks you in the eye.

"Your name is Dean Winchester. You’re my big brother. And I’m not telling you anything else, so don’t even try," He says, turning around and walking out. 

You feel sick all of a sudden, tasting bile in your throat. Christ, this guy is your brother? Then why the hell do you feel like a lovesick teenage girl whenever he gets close to you? 

Suddenly, a memory hits you and it’s hard to breathe. 

The first thing you remember is the feeling of skin against skin. And then you remember the rough, desperate kisses— whispers of “ Dean, please” against your lips. You can almost feel the warmth of Sam bleeding through his t-shirt and the way it made you feel more at home and safer than you’ve ever felt in your entire goddamned life. 

"Sam, wait!" You call, voice breaking. You hear his loud footsteps and then he comes back inside your room, looking rather annoyed. 

"Dean, I’m not going to—" 

He stops immediately when he sees you and practically runs over to where you’re sitting up in bed, kneeling down so that you’re at the same height. 

"Did you remember something?" He asks, excitement in his voice. 

"I… yeah," You say quietly, feeling Sam’s eyes boring into you. 

"What was it?" He asks eagerly, staring at you so intensely that you squirm under his gaze. 

"It was, uh, us. You and me."

Sam doesn’t say anything for a moment.

"That could mean a lot of things, Dean," He finally replies, looking at you almost sadly. God, was he really gonna make you say it loud?

"You know, us!"

And then Sam smiles, dimples and all, and you swear that it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

"Thank God," Sam mutters, reaching out a hand to cup your cheek. His touch makes you shiver and you lean into it. And then he’s kissing you and the fact that you’re missing about 99% of your memories doesn’t even matter anymore. 

Because you have Sam.


End file.
